To Hell and Back
by EthernalRain
Summary: What if Harry wasn't picked up by Hagrid when Voldemort attacked? How would the HP universe change, if he was picked up by a renowned, somewhat mentally unstable, immortal, 110-year-old Dark Arts Hunter? Includes: OC, Independant/Badass Harry.
1. Chapter 1: For Eternity

**To Hell and Back**

**Chapter 1**

**For Eternity**

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><p><strong>What if Harry wasn't picked up by Hagrid when Voldemort attacked? How would the HP universe change, if he was picked up by a renowned, somewhat mentally unstable, immortal, 110-year-old Dark Arts Hunter? Includes: OC, IndependantBadass Harry.**

**The concept has been sitting in a quiet corner of my mind ever since I've joined this site. So finally, after much deliberation, I've decided I'm gonna do a test chapter. If there's enough good press, then I'll put up another chapter.**

**Hope that didn't sound like a needy brat craving attention... I really hope it didn't. Anyway, here goes a sound effort, and I've got nothing to lose that hasn't already been taken once or twice before, but here we go!**

**LET'S DO THIS!**

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><p><strong>How do you say you hate your life, when it's nigh impossible for you to die a natural death? It's immortality. How can you possibly hate living forever? The benefits probably outweigh the disadvantages, so immortality would obviously be the better choice.<strong>

**But then again, nothing comes for free. Everything has a cost, from the tiniest little thing that occupies space, to largest manifestation of natural order that takes up existence somewhere out there. It's simply a matter of what you pay versus what you gain, input to output. What you put in, is what you get out.**

**You put in something small, naturally, you'll get something small. Probably very small.**

**But what happens during the times you put in something big? Very, very big things happen. Miracles can happen, wars can start, the lame can walk, and the world could end. I probably sound biblical, very biblical to you, but that's not the point.**

**This story, my story, started with just a little thing, one tiny little spark of an idea, which in reality was just small flickers of neuroelectricity in a young man's brain. For it was the idea that he could live forever and ever, never aging and never dying, to spend eternity with the woman he loved. And following the laws of input and output, naturally he got something small.**

**Very small.**

**But he kept pushing forward. He kept adding new things and concepts to his idea, and ended up with bigger and bigger results. It took up most of his life. But he still moved forward.**

**And he ended up an old man. A happily living, immortal old man with one hell of a result in his hands.**

**The Philosopher's Stone. The man was Nicolas Flamel, and heralded as the man who developed the gold standard of modern alchemy.**

**A generous man who saved my life... In thanks, I lived with him as an assistant, learned alchemy, and helped around the Flamel home. I thought of them as family, like an eccentric aunt and uncle. As a final test before I left on my merry way and ventured out into the world, I was asked to create one feat of alchemy, anything that I reaped from research and experimentation.**

**So with a week of strenuous effort, alchemical successes and failures, the near loss of my left arm and my right testicle, and another week of nearly getting myself killed for rare ingredients, and one more final week of getting those ingredients made into a result... I finally did it. I finished my test. And I made one thing that changed my life forever.**

**A pseudo-philosopher's stone. Upon completion, I cheered my ass off. It was perfect-ish. Albeit anti-climatic...**

**It was the size of a freaking pebble. A freaking pebble. Of all sizes possible, it was a pebble. Philosopher's Stone my ass, more like the Philosopher's Pebble.**

**Come on! A pebble! I work my ass off and nearly get myself killed, just for a pebble? A very shiny red pebble...?**

**Uncle Nicolas never let me live it down. But there were some benefits from the shameful pebble that he refused to let me chuck down a toilet. We found this out by accident though. And we never thought this was even possible out of the pebble that I made.**

**It couldn't do anything alchemical that was for sure when we tried it, but... There was one amazing thing that it could do. The only thing that kept me from either selling it as a fine jewel to make a quick buck, making it into a victory trinket, and/or flushing it down a toilet.**

**It could create the Elixir of Life. The Elixir of Life. How epic can you get, you tiny little alchemical failure, you? And yes, I am coddling and talking to a pebble, the most epic little pebble in existence.**

**Though Uncle Nicolas and Aunt Perenelle made me promise one thing... I could only drink the Elixir of Life when I was finally was the age and image I wanted to preserve for eternity. I chose 28. Then I left to travel.**

**And travel...**

**And travel...**

**And travel...**

**And travel...**

**Damn, eternity never seemed so long before.**

**Anyway, I traveled, alright? I made ventures in every single walk of life. I've lived as a poor man, a rich man, a lawman, a hitman... A married man... I've done everything imaginable these 110 years of life...**

**You get bored easily. Even with an Order of Merlin First Class under my belt, hey, don't look at me like I'm some damn prodigy or life's poster boy, I got that by accident... Seriously. By accident...**

**Don't ask. I don't like to talk about it much...**

**Ah, where are my manners?**

**The name's Reynald, Reynald Crawford.**

**I'm 110 with the body of a sex god, and thank you, eternal youth! And I'm not some self gratuitous arse with his head in the clouds, no, no matter what you think, I'm not. I'm not gonna pull a Malfoy on you all. And after 3 more generations of them on this earth, you'd think they'd learn some modesty.**

**Or humility.**

**Now where was I again?**

**Ah, I was wandering England yet again, looking for well, something. I made a living killing these guys called Death Eaters, who were terrorizing people. Stupid prejudiced little buggers. This wasn't really a war, just a group of terrorists making havoc here and there.**

**Though that didn't spare them from my wand, sword and gun... I find Albus Dumbledore's attempts at dealing with them to be a bit soft... He means well, I can give him that, but to really fight a battle, where the enemy is trying to kill you as quickly and brutally as possible, you can't halt or fight back with simple stunners and disarming spells. You fight back as hard as they do and even harder, that's how you win, that's how you survive, and that's how you protect your comrades and those you fight for.**

**Dumbledore claims my own ideologies to be "misguided but well intentioned".**

**Anyway, enough with my sentiments...**

**Let's start with the day my life changed forever... Or the day my life just changed. Hey, I already live forever. Who knew if the change would last forever?**

**...**

**Enough with all this damned ranting. **

**It all started when...**

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><p>I sat quietly, stoking a fire and munching on a sandwich.<p>

I was camping in the forest near Godric's Hollow, near to dead broke yet again. A trip to Gringotts is in order. Maybe in a few weeks. I like the outdoors, don't have to deal with the bull of society and it's mechanizations for a brief time.

**Poke. Poke. **I prod the fire with a stick, sighing.

I'm bored. Might as well go to a bar in town and get some food, or hunt a bit. I decide to go to town. It's not that far anyway. And unlike most wizards, I spent most of my time in the muggle world.

I can blend in with them rather easily, much to the Confederation of Wizards disbelief. Kiss my ass, Statute of Secrecy. I peek into my wallet, and take note of the few bills of money inside. Damn, maybe that trip to Gringotts should be much earlier than planned.

I stand up, pulling out my wand, and put out the fire with a quick, "_Aguamenti._" A stream of clear water flows from the tip, and extinguishes the flames. With another flourish of the wooden stick in my hand, my tent, bags and other belongings are shrunk and compacted into a small box that could fit in my pocket. I slide the box into my pocket beside my wallet, and begin my short trek to town.

It's Halloween night, so the people of the town are up and about, walking around and enjoying the night. I smile as a bunch of kids run past me in costumes, talking about their spoils. I remember when trick or treating became popular for the first time. I had put on a spell that turned me into a kid, and walked around, going from house to house for the free candy.

Ah, candy was so awesomely cheap back then... Now it's more expensive... Damn money grubbing companies, monopolizing the good stuff and increasing its prices... Now I can barely afford the large amounts of candy I used to be able to buy with my usual self allowance.

I stroll into a bar and order a glass of scotch and a sandwich, my usual order. I pay the bartender as he comes with my request. Then I eat quietly as I listen to my surroundings. It's quiet inside...

I finish quickly, and order a few sandwiches to go. When my order arrives, I take it with thanks, and leave. The night's young, even if I'm not so much myself. There's still a lot I can do.

But I just don't know what.

I opt to walk around, strolling the streets. I like this town, it's small, and I've settled down a few times over the years at a house here. Currently, I've loaned it out to Dumbledore for some apparent reason. He's using it as a safe house for this couple, a nice couple at that, with a son as well.

I've known the family for a while; I've even gone to school with a few of the man's ancestors, during my years at Hogwarts. Oh, and look at where I've somehow, conveniently stopped.

My old house, but now known as, Potter house. Wow. Weird coincidence... Maybe I'll pay a visit.

I'm right about to knock on the door, when I hear a shout.

"**AVADA KEDAVRA!**"

There's a sudden explosion, obliterating the wall of a room on the second floor of the house. There's a green light, and a black thing that flies out of the hole. I thought it was a dementor, but dementors can't use magic...

I rush through the door, already opened, and stumble on the body of James Potter. Evidence of a struggle was evident across the hall. Oh shit... I grit my teeth, and run up the stairs.

I'm standing near the opened door to the nursery, wand at the ready, clinging to the wall for cover. I pull out of the cover, and dash into the nursery, wand out and stance low, ready for anything.

On the floor, dead, was Lily Potter. Where was her son? I was about to give chase to the probable murderer, thinking that the black thing I saw earlier took the boy, when I heard crying. Faint, faint crying...

Over in a cradle, a baby wailed for his parents.

"Oh god..." I've never been good with young kids, particularly babies, with the exception of one... I take the boy into my arms, rocking him back and forth. His crying grew louder. I frown at him.

The crying turns into giggling. I sigh. Phew... No more crying, for now.

But what the hell do I do with the boy? I could get him to Dumbledore right now... But it's the dead of night, and it's cold. It's not safe for the boy to be here, and the attacker or his accomplices might come back...

My mind drifts as I hold the little thing, I believe Harry was his name... So small... So innocent... It reminds me of...

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><p>"<em>Reynald, look! Isn't he handsome! Going to be just like his father someday!"<em>

_A beautiful woman with long flowing brown hair, and deep hazel eyes smiled at me. She held a baby, cradling him lovingly. The baby woke up at the sound of his mother's voice, and began to cry._

"_There, there Renaud... Mommy's here..." She cooed. Soon the little boy calmed down._

"_May I hold him, Arianne?" I smile at her, "That is, if you don't want to let go of him."_

"_Okay, okay dear. He deserves some time with his father!" She murmured, enjoying the baby's, my son's, giggles. She hands him to me, and I hold him softly, rocking him back and forth._

"_Say, why aren't you out at the fields today? I thought harvest time was soon?" My wife asked._

"_Not yet, the crops need a bit more time. And I've done enough weeding to last us to the next century." I chuckle._

"_That's nice to hear." She smiles back._

_Ah, just another day in the life of Reynald, Arianne, and Renaud Crawford... I hope these days never end... I look out the window, and it's a nice sunny day out here at my farm in France... I look at the calendar beside the window._

_September 10, 1939._

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><p>I snap out of my flashback... That was weird... I take deep breaths to calm myself, and think. It's not the time to dwell on the past, there are more important matters at hand.<p>

Try to keep yourself sane Reynald. It won't do to go St. Mungo's style loopy, right?

Guess it's apparition time... I focus on my location, and then I lock onto it. Then there's a **CRACK! **And the feeling of being forced through a thin tube compresses me.

I arrive at my destination, standing before my not-so-modest flat in London. I run in, locking the door. I set young Harry on the couch as I look out the window. Three cracks later, three people stood in the middle of the street.

It was Albus, Minevra, and Severus. They rush to the door.

"Reynald, I know you're in there. Open up."

"How do I know you're who you say you are?" I ask, coming up to the door with a shotgun in hand.

"Fine then, ask me a question." He replies.

"What is Albus Dumbledore's lifelong ambition?"

"To sample every kind of muggle sweet in existence. Is that an acceptable answer?"

"Yes, yes it is." I open the door, mounting the gun on my shoulder. Their eyes drift to the weapon, widening as I flick the safety on the gun.

"I'm assuming if we didn't answer correctly, you would have, in muggle terms, pop a cap in our asses?"

"Yes, yes I would." I smirked, letting them in.

"Where's little Harry?" Minevra says.

"On the couch, sleeping."

They run into the living room, and she takes Harry into her arms.

"I can't let Harry bother you, so I'll be taking him to his relatives." She says.

I nod, until the latter half of what she said crossed my mind. "Wait... You're taking him to those magic hating relatives I've heard about?"

"I wouldn't say magic hating, but they do have a few misconceptions." Albus says.

"Let's take this conversation to the kitchen. I need something to drink. You guys?"

Albus nods. "I could use a butterbeer myself."

"I could use some more beer." I mutter, and lead them to the kitchen. I delve into the refrigerator, and come out with a few drinks.

"I just do not understand how these little contraptions work." Minerva comments, poking an appliance with her wand.

"Minerva, stop molesting the man's toaster and sit down." Severus says.

"Sit down, and we'll discuss what to do." I say, passing the drinks around.

"We'll be taking Harry to Petunia Dursley for her to raise." Albus declares.

"You sure there are no better options?" I ask him.

"She is the closest blood relative to Harry that's still alive."

"How about his godparents? I believe Augusta Longbottom, Amelia Bones, Remus and Sirius are available."

"I intend to use the strong type of wards, blood wards." He explains. "That is why it is necessary to have Harry stay with the Dursleys."

"Say, you only need the Dursleys to complete the wards, correct? So if we just kidnap them and keep them wherever Harry could stay..."

"_Reynald!_" Minerva says, aghast. "We could never do such a thing!"

"Though the idea has some merit..." Severus muses.

"_Severus!_"

"Now, now Minerva, let's let the old men decide." He says.

"I'm not old!" I say to him, frowning.

"You're older than Albus, for Merlin's sake." Severus mutters, taking a sip of butterbeer.

"True, but I'm young at heart!" I argue.

"Let's get back to the topic at hand boys- er, boy and one immortal." Minerva interjected.

"Fine. We'll give Harry over to the Dursleys for one week. One week only as a trial period. If everything is acceptable, then he shall stay under their patronage. If not, then we'll find him a better home. Everyone agrees?" Dumbledore suggests.

"Agreed." We all reply.

* * *

><p>"I just can't believe he'd do such a thing!" Remus sobs, a bottle of firewhiskey in hand.<p>

We sat at a wizard bar in Diagon Alley, privacy charms set up all around us. Partiers surrounded us, oblivious to our table. All of them were celebrating the fall of the Dark Lord, or as I like to call him, He-Who-Lacks-A-Pair-Of-Balls.

"I don't believe it either. But we may not have all the facts." I reply.

"What facts do we need? Four of my best friends are dead, and the last is a traitor and a murderer!" He takes a huge gulp of his drink and resumes sobbing.

I sigh. "I'm no grief counsellor, but don't dwell on this. You need to be intact for little Harry."

He looks up. "How is he?"

"I believe he's doing well. The week we allowed for the Dursley's has passed; I'm planning to go check up on him later. Care to join me?" I ask him.

"Fine by me." He sighed. "Arnie! Fetch me another firewhiskey!" He barked to the bartender.

"First step to help with grief: Go sober. Getting drunk will make it all worse." I tell him, taking a sip of my butterbeer. "Also, privacy charms, remember?"

He grumbles, sliding the empty bottles to the side and standing up to get another fix of alcohol. I sigh. Remus stumbles back to the table; after I let the charms lower a bit to let him in again. I gulp down the rest of my butterbeer and lean back into the chair.

"I know you're feeling terrible right now, but don't beat yourself up." I tell him.

"Oh, what do you know?"

"More than you of course. You aren't the only person to lose loved ones due to war." I snap.

He flinches, remembering. "I'm sorry Reynald, It's just-"

"Don't, just don't. I'll forgive you for that." I tell him, shrugging him off with a gesture. I toss him a hangover potion which he barely manages to catch.

"Slam that down and let's head out. Time to visit the Dursleys."

"Can't I at least drink my firewhiskey-" I glare at him. "Okay then, let's go."

"Give me the firewhiskey first, yes, that firewhiskey, the one you're trying to hide in your robes- Thank you." I shove the drink into my enchanted bag.

"Let's go."

* * *

><p>"Do we really have to take the damn Knight Bus?" I ask him.<p>

"It's the fastest way to get there."

"But last time I went, I vomited out the window, and it went flying into a car and caused a pileup!" I exclaim.

"And you inadvertently caused the great Muggle Automobile Obliviation Incident of '75." He points out. "I don't like this as much as you do, but unless you want to walk, or hail a taxi, or fly your way there in the middle of muggle London, then we're taking the knight bus. You could even apparate there, but then get spotted by muggles or vaporized and splinched by the anti-apparition wards. Immortality won't save you there. So we're taking the Knight Bus. Okay?"

I nod begrudgingly. He raises his wand, and soon, the purple triple-decker bus zooms right in front of us. Remus steps on, and pays for our tickets. He looks at me with a questioning look.

"Coming?"

I inch toward the bus slowly.

"The man who's faced some of the most dangerous odds known to both muggle and wizard kind, is afraid of a tall purple bus?" He chuckles.

"Oh shut up." I growl, still slowly inching towards the tall purple bus. He yanks me on to the bus, and seats me down on a chair.

"I'm going to use a permanent sticking charm to glue your ass to the chair if you don't stop fidgeting."

I growl at him.

"As much as I appreciate your werewolf impersonation, I'd like you to sit down, shut up, and try not to vomit over the floor." He snaps, sitting down on another chair.

"Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey." He says to the driver. "Take it away."

The bus zooms off.

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><p>I motion to my mouth, gesturing to Remus to take off the stupid silencing charm.<p>

"If I take it off, you'll start swearing at me." He argues. "And I only put it on because you kept screaming like a little girl for most of the drive."

At my pleading look he gives a wave of his wand, "Finite."

"Finally!" I say.

"So this is where Lily's sister lives?"

"Pretty much." I reply, looking up at the quaint little house. I walk up to the door, and press the doorbell.

"Who is it!" Someone barks and the door opens. A pudgy man stands there, who I assume is Vernon Dursley. The descriptions of him don't do him justice. He's damn revolting.

"What do you want?" He asks me.

"We're here for Harry Potter." I say to him.

"There's no one by the name of Harry Potter here!" He shouts, quickly slamming the door.

"That's odd..." Remus says, suspicious.

"The man's lying. Saw it in his eyes." I tell him. I push the doorbell again.

"Who is it- Oh, it's you." He spat. "I won't tolerate freaks coming here!" He tries to slam the door again, but I push it, keeping it open.

"Tell me the truth. Does a child named Harry Potter live here?"

"NO! Are you bloody daft?-!" He shouts.

"Liar."

I try to budge past the man, but he sends a punch flying towards my face. Before Remus could pull out his wand, I deflect the punch with one arm, and send Vernon reeling to the floor with a haymaker from the other.

"Crude... But efficient." Remus muses.

I gesture for him to follow.

"Harry! Where are you!"

"Harry!"

I grab Vernon by the collar, and pin him to the wall. "What have you done to Harry Potter?-!" I shout at him.

"There is no one by the name of Harry Potter in this house! Now get out!" He roars. "**Harry Potter doesn't exist!**"

"Vernon- Oh my!" A woman, presumably Petunia Dursley comes down the stairs. Remus holds her at wandpoint.

"**What have you done to Harry potter?-!**" He shouts at her.

"H-Harry P-Potter...?" She pales.

I reach into the bag slung around my shoulder and hanging at my waist, and pull out a pistol, a good old and faithful Colt Python. I jam it right into Vernon's forehead.

"You see this? You know what this is. This is no wand, that, I can assure you of, but you know what it can do. I'm insanely close to putting a bullet through your head at hundreds of miles per hour." I threaten him.

"Now tell me... **WHERE IS HARRY POTTER?-! Did you kill him?-! A little baby?** **WHERE IS HE?-! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HARRY POTTER!**" I roar, pulling back the hammer and jamming the barrel right between his eyes.

He whimpers.

"_Waaaaah..._" Remus and I freeze. The sounds of crying come from the cupboard under the stairs, multiple locks keeping it shut.

I wave my wand over the pistol in my hands, "Silencio."

Without a sound, I fire three bullets at the locks, knocking them away from the door with only light pings. I pull it open, and crawl inside. In the dark corner, is a very young boy, with a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. I had found Harry Potter.

I take the boy into my arms, and crawl out of the cupboard.

"Remus, let's go." I say to him, and walk out the door. "Call Dumbledore and the Order." I told him as I handed him Harry. "Head to Arabella's house, and use her floo." He breaks off into a run.

I look back into the house, and at the cowering figures inside. I raise my wand. I can be allowed to do this. They were going to keep a baby in a closet.

He could have died in there.

"_Silencio._" I murmur, and suddenly, all goes quiet.

"_Crucio._" And I turned around and left. All was quiet, at Number 4, Little Whinging, Surrey.

* * *

><p>"<em><strong>They left him in what?-!<strong>_" Minerva shrieked.

"Yes, they left him in a cupboard."

"_**Why I ought to-**_"

"Minerva, don't get carried away." Dumbledore advises her.

We sat around his desk in his office at Hogwarts.

"Carried away, Albus, carried away? Those filthy excuses for human left him in a cupboard for Merlin's sake!" She said, utterly disgusted. "Who knows what they would have done to the boy!"

"I for one, am just glad that Remus and Reynald were there to handle the situation, and get little Harry out of there." He sighed, a dark look over his eyes.

"We've all made bad decisions Albus. Don't beat yourself up about it." I tell him. "The matter at hand is, where are we going to have Harry stay?"

"We could have him stay with Remus." Minerva suggested.

"Those wolves at the Ministry are more ferocious than I am during the full moon. They'll pull something off and take him to some other family, possibly a death eater family or some prestigious pure-blood family that pays them the highest bid." Remus argues. "I can't take him."

"We can't have him stay at Hogwarts..." Albus says, "The Ministry will find him and take him."

"Amelia Bones and Augusta Longbottom can't handle him. Amelia with her job, and Augusta and her rather foul attitude..."

"So the criterion for Harry's guardian comes as follows: One, they must be prestigious, rich enough, and influential enough for the Ministry to back off and not bother them. Two, they must be very qualified to raise a child. Three, they must be good with defending themselves, and a child, so combat abilities qualify quite a bit. Four, they must have good ties, and must be Anti-Death Eater, and Anti-Dark Magic for Dark Uses. Does that cover it?"

Minerva smiles. "Thanks for volunteering."

"Wait what?"

"You're an excellent candidate! Don't you two agree!"

"She's right. You do qualify." Remus butts in. Not you too...

"I agree as well." Albus says.

"You guys can't be serious, I'm not good with kids-"

"Reynald Hayes Crawford. As of now, and for the next 16 years, you are to be the sole guardian of Harry James Potter. You need something to care for and get your life back on track... I honestly don't have much to say to you, other than..."

I gape.

"Good luck. You'll need it."

It's going to be a long, long, long 16 years.

* * *

><p><strong>10 Long Years Later<strong>

"**DAD! GET YOUR ASS OUT OF BED!**"

"_5 more minutes..._"

"**I'VE GOT MY HOGWARTS LETTER! LOOK, SEE!**"

I roll my head over to the overactive dark haired boy bouncing up and down right beside my bed. It was around noon at the Crawford House, which basically was my not-so-modest flat in London.

"Harry James Potter-Crawford! Sit down, shut up. I'm not paying for another pair of glasses you carelessly break!" I tell him, sitting up on my bed.

"But the last pair was eaten by a dragon! Anyway, it's finally here! My Hogwarts letter!" He grins, hopping into a beanbag chair over in the corner.

"You're going to relearn some magics you already know, you know that?"

"But I'm going to a school! A real magic school!" He says excitedly.

"But aren't you the kind of kid who radiates the, "I hate the education system, _maaan_", kind of vibe?" I tell him, standing up.

"But I can finally use magic in a public environment! And I don't have to go through the whole secrecy/security aspect!" He grins widely. "Finally, the world will hear of the great powers and skills of Harry James Potter-Crawford!" He laughs maniacally.

I smack him over the head. "Pride gets you nowhere but six feet under. Don't boast, prove." I tell him.

"Yes sir..." He grumbles. Though in his eyes, I can tell he's privately enjoying some visions of grandeur. If he wants them to happen so bad, then he'll have to make them happen. Just like I taught him.

"Now, get your wand, bag, and ammo. We're going to Diagon Alley."

"Got it."

"Oh yeah, dress seriously muggle. I like to see those pure-blood faces when we strut in there like we own the place."

You know, I will never forget the looks on those wizarding folk's faces as I walked down Diagon Alley in a black windbreaker and jeans. The only thing keeping them from obliviating us on the spot was an alchemist's sigil on the back of my jacket. Alchemists were known as hermits, and the best place to hide from magical peoples was the mundane world, or the muggle world. Which was a good reason to be wearing muggle clothes smack dab in the middle of Magical London.

We stopped by Madam Malkin's Robes shop, and Harry entered to get his robes. I flicked up my wand, twirling it in my hand. People kept a wide berth around me, only coming within distance to enter the shop behind me.

"Crawford."

"Malfoy."

I stare down Lucius Malfoy, who stood at the side of the door opposite of me.

"Fraternizing with the lower sort must have done wonders for you." He said in a snide tone.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

We stand there in silence, waiting for one another to make a move. Harry came out of the shop, chatting with a blonde boy.

"Come Draco."

The blonde follows his father, waving back at Harry.

"Who was that?" I ask him.

"Just some nice kid. A bit self-important, but he seems like a nice guy."

I nod. "I won't judge him, but watch out for his father."

"I know. Death Eater, right?"

I nod.

We were more or less done. Everything else needed for his Hogwarts attendance we already owned, including the textbooks.

"Can we go to the bookstore? I need to pick up a few books for my personal reading."

"Go ahead. But I've got some business in Knockturn Alley." I lied.

I watch the boy run off. Now I had to go pick up Uncle Nicolas's legacy in Gringotts. My little pebble version hung off of my neck attached to a chain. It was still rather inferior to the genuine article.

The Philosophers Stone.

* * *

><p><strong>POV: Harry James Potter-Crawford.<strong>

I walk into the bookstore, reading over a list I wrote up myself.

_**Erasing the Dark Arts**_, I hear that might help with some of the "jobs" that Dad and I take...

_**Alchemy for Idiots**_, Dad still won't teach me it yet...

_**Hogwarts, A History**_, it sounds remotely useful.

_**Gilderoy Lockhart's Magical Me**_, I want it for the shits and giggles. A person who actually fights the Dark Arts would know that nearly everything in his books is a load of bollocks.

_**Enchanting the Unenchanted**_, I want to learn enchanting. Badly. I really, really want enchanted weapons. Magic guns? I'm so there.

While I'm analyzing my list, I accidentally bump into a tower of books, tipping them over into a book avalanche.

"Ouch!"

Oh no, I've hit someone! I pull books out of my way, looking for signs of a person. Soon, I see a tuft of bushy brown hair. I reach in, and grab an arm, pulling.

And out comes a girl.

"Oh Merlin, shit." I swore.

"Thanks." The girl says, rubbing her head. She blinks, looking at the red liquid that stains her hand. "B-Blood?"

"Lay down." I order her, coercing her to comply. I reach into the bag slung around my shoulder and my waist, and pull out a vial of dittany. The thing was enchanted to hold anything of any size, and give it to me when I think of it, appearing in my bag for me to take out.

I pour the clear potion over the cut on her forehead. The long cut heals, and soon, there's nothing but skin and no evidence of a wound.

"_It feels good._" She murmurs. "_It doesn't hurt anymore._"

I help her sit up.

"That's how it's supposed to feel." I smile at her, glad that the potion is working.

She smiles back sheepishly, a small smile gracing her slightly pink face. You know, she's kind of cute. In a bookwormish, innocent way...

"Hermione, Hermione Granger." She introduces herself.

"Harry, Harry Potter. Or Potter-Crawford. Potter's shorter." I tell her, still smiling.

"You're Harry Potter-" I press a finger to her lips, interrupting her.

"Not so loud, the people at Hogwarts don't need to hear you." I say to her. "You have a nice name."

"T-Thank you." She stammers.

"Let's get this cleaned up..."

With a wave of my wand, which Dad bought me when I was 5 and completely off the Trace, the books flew back into their positions around us. It looked pretty cool. Hermione looked around, completely mesmerized by this not so incredible example of magic.

"That was amazing!" She said.

"Not really." I admit. "It isn't that big of a charm, I had to learn it after inadvertently causing another avalanche of books in my Dad's library. I crushed my Uncle Remus under it all while he was visiting."

"But I thought you couldn't use magic outside of school?"

I flinch, "Very special circumstances. It has to do with the kind of jobs my dad and I take."

"And what job is that?" She asks as I help her to her feet.

Damn, this girl is inquisitive. But cute. Why do I keep thinking about that?-! It must be copied from Dad, and the times he's had to flirt and charm his way into situations and out of them, like when we needed a place to stay, or get out of a tight scenario.

"We hunt the Dark Arts." I tell her.

"You _**hunt**_ the Dark Arts?" She gapes at me. "Don't you need to have special qualifications for something like that? Like you have to be part of the Ministry of Magic? You've never even attended a Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson yet!"

"Let me explain. A Dark Arts Hunter is an independent field of employment. They are assigned to _**hunt**_, _**combat**_, and _**erase**_ the implementations and even the users of the Dark Arts, even if it means using the Dark Arts against itself. They're on the border between Light Magical and Dark Magical." I explain to her.

"That's why it's not a very widely taken up job, and the ones who do are both feared and famed. They are usually hired by governments, of both the magical and non-magical sort to deal with dark magic, and other paying clients. They also use both sorts of magic to solve dangerous and difficult tasks within both worlds, such as hunting criminals both magic and muggle, or dealing with creatures causing havoc, or solving crime. Most don't survive the ordeals. And they either come from Durmstrang or some other magical country. Dad is only the third to come from Britain in the century." I tell her.

"Who is your father anyway?" She asks. There she goes with more questions.

"Reynald. Reynald Hayes Crawford." I reply.

She pulls a book out of her bag, flipping through it. "Your father is the Alchemist of Eternity?"

"Alchemist of what?"

"Here, the Alchemist of Eternity, the pupil of the Alchemist of Infinity." She holds out the page to me.

I look at the book.

_**Alchemists of the Modern Age**_

_**To this date, there are two alchemists that have made earth shattering discoveries in the field of alchemy. As a mix between muggle and magical sciences, alchemy is a veritable magical art. The two alchemists in question are teacher and pupil. They are the Alchemist of Infinity, Nicolas Flamel, and his pupil, the Alchemist of Eternity, Reynald Hayes Crawford.**_

_**Nicolas Flamel's alchemical contribution to the world was the Philosopher's Stone, a stone that can turn convert any existing matter into another form of matter, the most popular conversion being turning lead into gold. It can also produce the Elixir of Life through a process unknown. Drinking this Elixir can make a person live forever, freezing them at one age and appearance for the rest of their lives.**_

_**This is why he, Nicolas Flamel, is titled the Alchemist of Infinity, since that is the length of his lifespan and the amount of alchemical breakthroughs he will continue to make. **_

_**The second alchemist, his pupil of unknown origins, is Reynald Hayes Crawford. It is not known why Nicolas Flamel had taken young Reynald under his wing about a century ago, but it was not without merit, value, and rewards for the young man. The young man cemented the use of alchemy in the modern age, implementing it in wards, magical combat, the synthesization of medicine and medical miracles, and numerous other grandiose accomplishments. He also created a method of eternal living like his teacher, unknown to us, as he doesn't want his secrets leaked.**_

_**To this day, now 110 years old with the body of 28, he is a renowned Dark Arts Hunter, holds the position of second Most Charming Smile by Witch Weekly, and lives life like a kind hermit. He is titled the Alchemist of Eternity, since that is the length of time he will watch over our world, and occasionally taking the place of a hero when needed as needed, as he has various times before.**_

"... Wow."

"Are you trying to tell me you never knew about this?" She asked. I shake my head. "But he's your adopted father!"

"He doesn't like to talk about it much. He really is more like a kind hermit though... He's not sociable at all unless it's initiated or required at the time..." I tell her.

"But are you really a Dark Arts Hunter? It sounds like your adopted father had all these adventures and you're riding on the coattails of his fame and glory."

I pout at that. "I really have come along with him, and helped too!" I argue.

"Then prove it!" She pouts back.

"Fine!"

I think of my favourite weapon for when dispatching inferi. Out of my bag, I pull out a sheathed Scottish dirk.

"Is that real?" She gasps.

I nod, "And I like to use it to behead inferi."

"What are inferi?"

"The magical equivalent of zombies."

"Eeew." She grimaces.

"I think the same way." I reply as I put the dagger (it's more of a small sword to me,) back in my bag.

"So... You've defeated You-Know-Who, now you're fighting back the Dark Arts... You're a hero."

"I didn't "defeat" Voldemort... And I'm not much of a hero to boot." I say.

"But the books said-"

I interrupt her with my finger again. "Don't believe everything the books say Hermione. I didn't defeat Voldemort. I probably got lucky or something, I barely remember anything, if not nothing."

I look down at my list again. With a flick of my wrist, the books on it come to me, and organize themselves in a pile.

"I'll see you on the train?"

"I'll see you on the train." She breathes.

I pay the exact amount the books cost at the counter, and make my way out of the store.

"Wait! Harry!"

"Yes Hermione?"

"Thanks for helping me out." She smiles brightly at me.

"Don't mention it." I wave her off with a smile of my own.

"Oh, my little lady-killer finally has a little friend!" A voice whistles as a hand pats my head.

"**Eeek!**"

"**Woah!**"

Our heads whip around. Dad's standing behind me, a little brown package under his arm.

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Reynald Crawford, this little guy's guardian/adopted father."

"I'm Hermione, Hermione Granger." She introduces herself.

"Nice to meet you Hermione," He says without nonchalant formality, as if he was talking to an old friend, "I guess you've met Harry already. So, to the general point of most parents, what _**intentions **_do you have towards my son?" He asks with a smirk.

"_**I-Intentions?-!**_ Why, I would never even think of-"

"Just kidding, just kidding."

I glare at him, about to rebuke him for teasing Hermione.

"Ah, young love... I remember a somewhat famous quote..."

"We're not in love!" We say in unison. After that, we blush, looking at each other awkwardly. Damn, that really was rather awkward.

"And that quote is what exactly?" Hermione asks, curious.

He just smiles at her.

"_The more beautiful and pure something is, the more satisfying it is to corrupt._" He whistles. "You're well on your way to that Harry."

I flush. "**DAD!**"

"See you around Hermione, hope we meet again." He bids goodbye and walks off. I run after him.

"Sorry about this!" I shout back to Hermione.

She just stood there waving back as her parents walked up to her. She stood there oblivious to her parents words, having turned into a blushing mess. I blame Dad for this. He's normally the cause of these kinds of things.

But that quote has some merit...

"Ah, Harry! You'll need an owl! I can't send Schneider to you for you to send letters with while you're at Hogwarts! " He says, hitting his palm with the bottom of his fist.

Schneider is the family owl, a Long-eared Owl. He likes mice and rats for his diet, so he was banned from going to Hogwarts after flying through the halls and eating the familiar of a first year 3 years ago. It then tried to eat the familiar of another student, I believe it was a Weasley, before taking a stunner to the head. They mailed him back unconscious to our house in a package with air holes.

We made our way to the magical variant of a pet store, and looked over the owls. A Snowy Owl caught my attention, and she, I'm guessing she's a she, playfully nibbled my finger as I stuck it through her cage.

"I like her." I tell Dad, and he looks over the owl.

"Sir!" He calls over to the manager. "We'll take this one."

And I walked out that day with my very first owl. She's a _**LOT**_ more friendly then Schneider is. He bites, claws, I think he can read, uses some sort of magic, and wears bladed talons when coming with us on "jobs". That and he looks at you with a look that says, "I know things. I know your secrets. You can't hide things from me. I will peer into your soul!" The look is creepy, oh Merlin, it is.

He's nearly always preening himself when it's indoors, and facing a wall. When you enter the room, his head snaps straight at you at a neck breaking degree, and gives you the _**look**_ right into your eyes. It's that creepy. _**It's really, really creepy.**_

That, I think it's also out to get me. Not to kill me, but to make my life miserable. Needless to say, I don't like him. Not one bit.

"So, what are you going to name him? Or her? Oh, pass me the cage." I hand him the cage. He peeks at the owl's lower parts. "It's a her. So, what are you going to name her?" He asks as he hands the cage and owl back.

"I think I'll call her... Hedwig. She looks like a Hedwig to me."

* * *

><p>I stare down the wall that divided the muggle world from Platform 9 and ¾.<p>

"That wall ain't moving no matter how much you stare at it." Dad says, looking at me.

"It still looks like a solid brick wall though." I reply, still staring at it intently.

"I'd run it if I were you."

I nod, looking at the wall. I break out into a run, pushing my cart forward and trying not to close my eyes. I want to see what this looks like. My cart enters the wall, then my hands, and then my arms.

Now it's coming up to my eyes- Shit! I flinched! I instantly come up out of the other end of the portal, rubbing my eyes.

I blinked at the last second. My head turns, eyes widening. This is amazing. Absolutely amazing...

This beats a school bus any day.

The scarlet red train awaited me, the words, Hogwarts Express on the engine. This is very cool. I roll my cart over and a wizard puts it in a compartment.

"Sorry Hedwig, but you'll have to go in there." I say to my owl.

She hoots, looking at me. Oh Merlin. She's giving me the Schneider look! **SHE'S GIVING ME THE SCHNEIDER LOOK!**

"Really sorry about this girl." I say to her, handing her cage quickly to the wizard.

She shoots me a look that says, "You owe me one!"

Fine, she can have a lot of owl treats when we're at Hogwarts. I walk up onto the train, looking at everything. There's still time before the train leaves, so I can explore without forgetting to say goodbye to Dad. I've never been in a train before. We would always apparate or drive to our destinations.

Dad says he's not comfortable with trains, something private, he says.

I sit down on in a compartment, looking out the window and the people outside. Many people have arrived; already many students have come onto the train to reserve compartments.

"How do you like the train?"

"**WAH!**"

Dad's sitting beside me, lounging on the seat.

"Why are you here?-!" I shout at him.

"I'm going to Hogwarts! I've got some business to take care of." He explains.

"... For how long?"

"I dunno. Until the end of the year...?" He shrugs.

**Oh. Dear. Fucking. Merlin.**

"**W-WHY!**" I stammer/shout.

"Business... I'm bored as hell at home, and going to bars with people far younger than me has lost its novelty."

"**BUT HOW ARE YOU GOING TO MAKE MONEY FOR US?-!**"

"I'll sell topnotch, high quality Harry Potter merchandise! I'll make hundreds of galleons!" He grins. "Your baby photos, your exploits, and excerpts from the little black diary you keep in your left pocket 24/7! We'll make a fortune!"

"_**WHAT?-! YOU CAN'T! I WON'T LET YOU! AND IT'S NOT A DIARY, IT'S A JOURNAL! YOU KEEP ONE TOO!**_"

"Yadda, yadda, yadda. I'm going, that's final. And my journal is manly and for alchemical and combat notes and I'm legally required to write in it to keep my psychological profile healthy and stain free. You don't have that excuse, so for you, it's a diary." He argues.

"_**BUT YOU CAN'T-**_"

"Oh Harry, Harry, Harry. When will you learn? I'm going, that's final. We're going to have so much fun together!" He laughs, slinging an arm around my shoulder. My face warps into the expression reminiscent of the famous painting, The Scream.

_**IT'S OVER! MY YOUTHFUL BUDDING NOT YET BIG ENOUGH SPECK OF A SOCIAL LIFE IS OVER! NOOOOO! I'LL NEVER GET ANYWHERE IN LIFE NOW WITH DAD FLYING OVER MY SHOULDER LIKE A VULTURE!**_

_**NOOOOOOOO!**_

I need to find some way to lose him, some way at all... Maybe I'll hook him up with a girlfriend, yes! That's it! Maybe he'll like that Rita Skeeter woman from the Daily Prophet!

She's controversial, in your face, has moderate looks, sticks her nose where it doesn't belong and where it shouldn't be possible to put it, kisses ass as often as possible to look good, and probably needs a good lay.

They're perfect for each other!

"I'm going to find Hermione, see you later!" I quickly say, running out of the compartment.

"Have fun with your girlfriend!"

"She's not my girlfriend! I'm 11!"

"Yeah, and I'm a hundred and ten, going a hundred and eleven! I know these things when I see it!"

I frown at him, and leave the compartment.

* * *

><p><strong>POV: Reynald Crawford.<strong>

I stare at the little package in my lap. It held the Philosopher's Stone. It's the amalgamation of my teacher's **LIFE**. It means a lot to our family.

It's the thing I strive to turn this little pebble hanging from my neck into.

I sigh, pulling out a can of soda from my bag. It's not like muggle things are illegalized in magical areas. A group of Slytherins walk by me, and sneer at the can in my hands.

"Filthy muggle objects..." I hear one murmur.

"Must be a halfblood or mudblood..."

"Yeah..."

They walk past without a second glance. "Damn prejudiced pure-bloods..." I mutter, taking a sip. I stand up, and walk out of the compartments, opting to find one near the front of the train, where there were less students.

I sit down in a compartment just one compartment away from the magical engine. It's quiet here, very quiet. Might as well sleep here. I close my eyes.

"Is it okay if I sit here?" Some girl asks.

"Sure, why not." I tell her, not opening my eyes. Woah, déjà vu there... Those were the first words I said to Arianne when I met her... All those years ago, on a train...

I'm okay with this kind of transport now, but... This is kinda weird.

"Sandwich?" She offers.

"No thanks." I say to her, still not opening my eyes.

"So why are you on the train?" She asks.

"Business."

"Ah. I'm just a replacement teacher here to teach Ancient Runes."

I nod quietly at her response, trying to sleep.

This is all so very weird. All this stuff has happened before, the whole asking questions, minus the references to a magical school and professions...

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, just let me sleep." I say, annoyed. Just like the last time...

"But you seem pale..." A hand caresses my face.

"I'm fine!" I argue. I slide my feet into a better position, when I feel her leg. Too late. I've tripped her.

I feel her land onto me, her arms now hanging on my neck and her bosom now on my chest.

"Are you okay?" She asks. This is still so weird. So much is happening like that time on a French train, meeting the woman that I wanted to love and cherish for the rest of my life.

I open my eyes. "I'm fine, and you are- _**What? A-Arianne?**_" I gape.

Leaning on me, is a woman in stylish red robes, and she was the spitting image of Arianne Crawford née Delacour. My wife.

"How did you know my name? Anyway, sorry about this..." She picks herself up, and sits beside me. "What's with you? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"It's n-nothing..." I stammer. "You remind me of someone..." It was half true. She reminded me of someone... But she looked exactly like her.

_**Absolutely **_like her.

"What's your name?" She asked.

"Reynald. What's yours?" I smile a wavering smile at her.

"Arianne. Just Arianne."

"No last name?" I ask.

"I don't have one..." She says. "I lived at a wonderful orphanage in France for a while, and then I migrated here with a wandering witch." She explains. "All I have as a name is Arianne. It just clicked with me."

I nod, keeping up my smile while deathly pale.

"It could have something to do with this..." She reaches into her robes, and pulls out a chain. Hanging on the end of it, is a rather familiar gold ring.

"The people at the orphanage said they found this with me." She holds the ring out to me. "Read the inscription."

_**OH DEAR FUCKING MERLIN.**_

Inscribed on the inside of the ring, was a name.

"_**Arianne Crawford née Delacour.**_ The workers at the orphanage thought it belonged to one of my parents, but it doesn't seem likely. I don't remember anyone else named Arianne in my life. But the name clicked with me somehow, it just seemed nice, it just seemed... Well, it just seemed _**right**_. Do you understand that? Sorry, I'm rambling right now... Hey, are you okay? You look so pale right now-"

I never let her finish her sentence. I faint.

* * *

><p><strong>POV: Harry Potter-Crawford.<strong>

The train began to move. This is so exciting! I wonder what Dad's up to right now... Ah forget it, I'll find out later.

I smile as I see Hermione waiting at the door.

"Aren't you excited?" She says, sitting down across from me, being.

"Yeah, yeah I am." I smile at her.

I look out the window, watching the landscape fly by.

"What do you plan do at Hogwarts?"

"_Push my Dad off the Astronomy tower..._" I mutter.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing!" I quickly say.

"Help! I've lost my toad!" A boy shouted from the hall.

"Should we help?" I ask her.

She nods. I nod back, stand up and open the door for her.

"Ladies first." I grin.

She smiles, and accepts the gesture.

"You're quite the gentleman, Mr. Potter." She compliments me.

"I try." I reply, bowing.

We head off in search of the boy, and in my Dad's words, in search for an adventure.

And who knew what we would find?

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1 Complete! Not much to say here. Please review, but I won't beg it from you. I don't want attention, I want criticism. If there's praise alongside that or on its own, then that's very welcome, and thanks! <strong>**So R/R, enjoy life, read great fiction, and let the creative juices flow. And not only for you lemon writers. Aw well. – EthernalRain**


	2. Chapter 2: Walking the Line

**Chapter 2**

**Walking the Line**

* * *

><p><strong>I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, I wouldn't be living where I'm living, and I would be living in a huge ass mansion surrounded by all the media related things I want.<strong>

**There's been some good reviews! And one not so good review. But that's okay. So, this project's been green lighted, and is ready to go! So...**

**LET'S DO THIS!**

* * *

><p><strong>POV: Harry James Potter-Crawford<strong>

As we helped the boy, Neville Longbottom, to find his toad, I found my father unconscious with a very familiar woman fawning over him... We had photos of her all over the house. Before I could enter the compartment to speak to her, Hermione tugged my wrist.

"Come on! Let's go check the other compartments!"

"Just wait..." I pull out my wand. "Let's make this quick... Accio Trevor!"

A toad came flying down the hall, and landed in Hermione's hair.

"Get it off, Get it off!"

"Got it!" I say in victory, pulling it off her. It's a pudgy little guy, squirming in my hands.

"Trevor!" Neville runs up to us. "Thanks so much!" He says as he takes the toad from my hands.

"Keep him on a leash or something." I recommend to him.

"I don't think they make leashes for toads-"

"I know, I know, just saying."

* * *

><p><strong>POV: Reynald Hayes Crawford.<strong>

I stumble out of unconsciousness, breathing heavily. I stare up into those very familiar hazel brown eyes. After all those years... I can still remember who they belonged to.

_**Arianne... Oh my god... Arianne...**_

"Are you okay? You just fainted!" The woman before me exclaimed, hovering over me and checking every part of me out.

"It's nothing... Just startled, is all..." I reply. "You reminded me of someone very important to me..." That was an understatement.

"Okay then..."

"So you're here to teach Ancient Runes?"

She nods, smiling. She even has her smile... She has to be some corporeal ghost. That's right, she has to be...

Or this is just some cruel dream.

"Sounds interesting." I tell her. "Could you explain to me what you know?"

* * *

><p><strong>POV: Harry James Potter-Crawford.<strong>

I settle down in a compartment with Hermione and Neville.

"Say Neville, you're a person who's lived in the magical world for most of his life, correct?" Hermione asks him.

"Yeah, it's more or less all I've known." He replies.

"It's always bothered me why wizards generally boycott everything to do with the modern muggle world..." I put in my two cents, looking for his opinion.

"It's probably due to the pure-blood influences in the Ministry and society." Neville says.

"Um, what's a pure-blood?" Hermione questions.

"A pure-blood is someone who claims to have purely magical heritage, claims it makes them more superior than those who aren't of purely magical heritage. They claim to be higher up the food chain of society, and more powerful magically than anyone else. The more zealous kind of them thinks that their status elevates them to some sort of royalty." I explain to her.

"That doesn't seem right... It's sounds preposterous."

"It does, doesn't it? But I didn't write it that way. They believe just having magic makes them superior to everyone else. But that's a load of bullocks." I say.

"Language!" She exclaims.

"Sorry. Say Neville, what's your take on all this?"

"I don't know exactly... There's quite a bit of, what's the word my grandmother uses- ah, I think it was stigma, with being muggleborn or being a half-blood, or simply being in contact with muggles in any way."

"But that seems so stupid!" Hermione replies.

"Is it? These are people who find the muggle world odd, and vice versa as well. There are many differences, but the core similarities are quite big as well. Muggle or Magical, they are still human. And humanity's greatest fear, is fear of that which is unknown." I explain to her.

"So, because the muggles don't have a good enough understanding of the magical world and the citizens of the magical world don't have a good enough understanding of the muggle world, both will have tense relations with each other?"

"Pretty much." I reply. "That's how it works. And that's how the whole pure-blood thing is still running wild."

"_That's still a load of bullocks..._"

"Language, Hermione!" I laugh, grinning as she glared at me.

"Hello? Um, is it okay if I sit with you guys?"

A red haired boy peeked through the door of the compartment.

"Sure, why not." I say. "What's your name?"

"Ron, Ron Weasley. What's yours?" He asks me.

"Harry, Harry Potter."

"You're Harry Potter?" Neville and Ron gape.

"Didn't I say that already?" I raise an eyebrow.

"You told me your name was Harry Crawford!" Neville shouts.

"It's half my last name. My legal last name is Potter-Crawford, but it's too damn long, and is a hassle to write on everything." I explain.

"Do you really have the-"

"Yes, I have the scar." I lift up my hair to show it, "Why does everyone keep asking that?"

"Well, because you're _**the**_ Harry Potter! You defeated You-Know-Who!" Ron exclaims.

"I did not defeat him. I probably got very, very lucky. Besides, the place where happened was my Dad's old home, every inch of it was probably warded... And I don't understand why people make me out to be the "hero" who defeated a Dark Lord. I'm no hero, my parents were. They fought him and they died for me. But everyone seems to have forgotten them so they could celebrate Harry Potter..."

Neville, Ron, and Hermione share solemn looks.

"Sorry mate, if I had known-" Ron starts off, but I raise my hand to silence him.

"Don't, just don't... It was in the past, and now it's the present. I've got a big cheque for a future ahead of me, and I intend to cash it in." I smile.

"That's good to hear." Neville smiles back.

There's knocking on the door to the compartment. Ron opens it to reveal the snack trolley.

"Anything from the trolley dears?" The old lady pushing the trolley asks.

"I'm in for a liquorice wand right now..." I reach into my bag, and pull out a pouch. A decently sized mound of galleons dropped onto my hand.

"How much can this fetch me?"

Everyone gapes at me.

"What? This is my daily allowance. Hey Ron, are you okay? You seem a little pale-"

Ron faints.

"... So anyway, how much can this get me?" I ask the lady with a smile.

* * *

><p><strong>POV: Reynald Hayes Crawford.<strong>

Arianne smiles brightly at me as I gape at her vast knowledge of Ancient Runes.

"And how long have you been studying this?"

"Four years!"

"But a basic mastery takes eight!"

"I'm just that good." She smirks.

Okay. Mental analysis: I have met the probable reincarnation of my wife. Evidence: She looks exactly like her, has every single one of her subconscious mannerisms, has the exact same attitude, and on a more perverted scale, her boobs felt the exact same way Arianne's felt like when she slept on my chest. Damn.

She even has her voice. And I still feel like I'm speaking to a ghost.

"Are you sure you're okay?" She asks me, looking me over.

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" I try my best to assure her. Don't linger on this Reynald. Don't. It's not going to help with your potential insanity one bit.

"Okay then..." She says, looking down with a sad pout. God damn it, she's so damn cute.

"Thanks for worrying though..." I tell her, rubbing the back of my head sheepishly.

She looks up, smiling brightly with the smile I fell in love with on a train in 1932. The same smile that burned a hole through my chest and warmed my heart with the heat of a thousand suns... Also, it makes me cheesier than nachos, so there's a warning for you. She pulled out a sandwich from a pocket and held it out to me.

"Wanna share?" She asks with a small abashed smile.

"Why not?" I smile back.

"You never told me your last name." She commented as we step off the train with the kids.

"I'll give you three hours to guess."

"What are you, Rumpelstiltskin? Are you going to take my first-born child if I guess wrong?"

"You know that tale?"

"I heard of it." She smiled, began walking, and I followed her at a steady pace, "Besides, when I have kids, I won't let anyone take them from me. Besides, if you had kids too, you wouldn't let anyone take them from you either, right?" She latched onto my right arm. "Escort me to the castle sir?"

"Of course, Ma'am." My smile falters.

We walk to the carriages, and hop into an empty one. I think about her words... God, I feel like shit right now... _**Renaud...**_

"I might throw up." I say as the thing starts moving. Hey, these are thestrals here. Still feeling nauseous right now...

Oh crap.

"You get motion sick easily?" She asks.

"... Sure, let's go with that." I lie. I thrust my head out of the window, and let it all loose. Hey, there's the caramel-flavoured jelly bean I ate earlier, the one that tasted very salty and chunky!

It's turning everything brown...

"Oh no..." Arianne murmurs, comforting me. "I got you, I got you- Hey, isn't that a _**horse droppings**_ flavoured every-flavour bean?"

I turn green.

"_**BLARF.**_"

* * *

><p><strong>POV: Harry James Potter-Crawford.<strong>

I stare up at the castle, from my seat in the boat. This place is awesome. This is a school? Really?

... I wonder if they have dungeons... Ones with magical torture interrogation devices like the kind Dad keeps under the floorboards up in the attic... Anyway, this is cool! Hey, is that a squid?

It's huge! A tentacle waves at me from the distance. I wave back, a big grin on my face. Neville just gapes at me.

"You've made friends with the giant squid?"

"So? I don't discriminate." I muse, head swinging left and right to find out how this boat was enchanted to move. Hermione and Ron just look at me, wondering why I was constantly moving.

"You sure you aren't sick Harry?" Hermione asks me.

"Me, sick? No, no, it's going to take a lot more than this to make me sick." I reply.

"What, like making out with the giant squid?"

"Oh shut up, Ron."

The giant man, I believe Hagrid was his name, led us up through the courtyard and into the castle. We waited before this place called the Great Hall.

"Students, students! This way please!" I recognize that voice.

"Hi Aunt Minnie!" I shout from our spot in the crowd.

"Mister Crawford! Please refrain from calling me that inside of school grounds! Here, I'm Professor McGonagall to you!" The aged woman scolds me.

"Yes Professor McGonagall." I reply in a singsong tone.

She opens her mouth to rebuke me but shuts it, wearing a small tolerant smile instead.

"Come, come, let us not keep everyone waiting."

She led us into the huge hall. It was exactly how I thought it would be, an image formed from both what the people of my family have told me about, and the words that were written into books I've read. I'm completely and utterly enchanted by what I see before me. I look at the tables of the four houses.

Gryffindor. Ravenclaw. Hufflepuff. Slytherin.

I have no idea at all of what House I'm going to be in. Hey, it's the Sorting Hat! It opens its mouth to sing.

"_Oh you may not think I'm pretty,  
>But don't judge on what you see,<br>I'll eat myself if you can find  
>A smarter hat than me.<em>

_You can keep your bowlers black,_  
><em>Your top hats sleek and tall,<em>  
><em>For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat<em>  
><em>And I can cap them all.<em>

_There's nothing hidden in your head_  
><em>The Sorting Hat can't see,<em>  
><em>So try me on and I will tell you<em>  
><em>Where you ought to be.<em>

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_  
><em>Where dwell the brave at heart,<em>  
><em>Their daring, nerve, and chivalry<em>  
><em>Set Gryffindors apart;<em>

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_  
><em>Where they are just and loyal,<em>  
><em>Those patient Hufflepuffs are true<em>  
><em>And unafraid of toil;<em>

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_  
><em>if you've a ready mind,<em>  
><em>Where those of wit and learning,<em>  
><em>Will always find their kind;<em>

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_  
><em>You'll make your real friends,<em>  
><em>Those cunning folks use any means<em>  
><em>To achieve their ends.<em>

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_  
><em>And don't get in a flap!<em>  
><em>You're in safe hands (though I have none)<em>  
><em>For I'm a Thinking Cap!<em>"

Everyone claps at the ancient hat's song.

"Hannah, Abbott!" Professor McGonagall (I'm still going to call her Aunt Minnie) shouts, and a girl stumbles up to the hat. She's instructed to put the hat on her head. A few seconds later, the hat opens it's mouth again.

"Gryffindor!" The hat heartily shouts. The Gryffindor table erupts in cheers as the girl runs over to them.

Names fly by as I delve into my thoughts. It sorts us based on our characteristics, correct? So right now, I'm analyzing whatever characteristics I may have. As I do, I admit to having numerous glaring flaws in my persona.

I'm not perfect, alright?

"Hermione, Granger!" Hermione walked up nervously to the hat. She puts it on her head, a worried expression on her face.

"Gryffindor!" The hat shouts. She smiles, running over the cheering table.

I won't let it influence my opinion, but I may enjoy being in Gryffindor. I resume my thinking while the line moves forward. Hm... Maybe I should just listen to the hat's opinion... I'm brave, smart, cunning, loyal...

Damn, I don't have a clue where I'm going. I spot Dad flirting with this familiar woman at the staff table... And at the rate he's moving, and at the shade she's blushing, I'll have a professor for a Mom in no time flat...

"Neville Longbottom!" Neville runs up to the stool the hat's put on, and places the hat hesitantly on his head.

"Gryffindor!" A wide smile erupts on Neville's face as he runs for the Gryffindor table, nearly taking the hat with him.

More names fly by. I'm running out of time here!

"Harry Potter... Crawford."

"Crawford?"

"That's Harry Potter! Not Harry Crawford!"

"It's Harry Potter-Crawford, alright!" I shout.

People are puzzled, conversing among each other, as I walk up to the sorting hat, staring at it intently.

"Don't worry boy, I'm not going to eat your brains. I'm just going to worm my way into your head, and glean your thoughts!"

"... Not creepy at all..." I mutter.

"Just put me on, boy. We don't have all day. We're all hungry. Well, I'm not, I don't have a stomach."

I pick the hat up, and put it on my head. I sit on the stool, waiting for an answer. Apparently, it's supposed to send messages through the mind... I feel something caressing the small and pathetic mental shields of occlumency I have up.

_**It's me. Let me in.**_

It's the sorting hat. I let the small presence worm it's way in, and I feel it poking around my memories and feelings.

_**Interesting, interesting... Quite the enigma, aren't you, Harry James Potter-Crawford.**_

Yes, yes. What now?

_**Wait, I'm trying to get an assumption of what kind of person you are... Yes, you're quite brave. Beheading an inferi, mano-a-mano? Impressive. Jumping headfirst into some of the most dangerous situations imaginable? And that's your 18**__**th**__** pair of glasses since the last pair got eaten by a dragon? Wow.**_

It was a Norwegian Ridgeback. It ate them along with my Dad's right boot. Damn thing took hell to kill... And it singed my favourite cloak too... The damn overgrown leather shoe...

_**Anyway... You're very intelligent... Learning the basics of alchemy without any help at all... Very intelligent. Learning up to the third year skills of magic before attending Hogwarts? Simply amazing, amazing I tell you... I also see you're also cunning, very cunning... Quite the manipulative little sneak, aren't you?**_

I try.

_**You're as roguishly charming as your father and adopted father were when they were your age... Quite the mischievous boys as well... I still haven't forgotten Reynald's threat of dunking me in the Black Lake, using me as bait for the giant squid, and then wringing me dry out the Astronomy tower windows. All for putting him in Slytherin.**_

Wait, what? I thought he was a Gryffindor, or a Hufflepuff, or as farfetched as it is, a Ravenclaw!

_**Nope. While he had the characteristics for all of the houses, I thought he might have done Slytherin some good with his attitude and outlook. Well, he ended up persona non grata in Slytherin house, well, for the guys anyway. Girls still liked the cheeky bastard. Anyway, he had many friends in other houses, albeit being a Slytherin. He was quite the snake, slithering in and out of situations with a serpent's tongue and/or with quick, sharp poisonous fangs. He's still quite the duellist, and I can see that you are too. And both of you are loyal, oh boy. You've never backed down on your word, and you've never let someone down.**_

Is that really true...?

_**Well... You tried your absolute best, alright? That's what counts. Loyal to a fault, loyal to a fault... You see your dad over there? He's loved the same woman, one woman, for all his life. And he won't turn back any time soon.**_

But I've seen him flirt lots of times! And look, even now, he's flirting!

_**He can put up a good act, yes, but there's only one woman that I know of that he'll do the real thing. And that still stands, even now.**_

That doesn't make any sense.

_**Well, without the proper facts, of course it doesn't make sense. But we're not supposed to be talking about your father's love life, we're supposed to be sorting you somewhere... But where? Just where...**_

I might enjoy being with my friends.

_**But that might not do any good for you, and your friends. Enjoyment is nice, but think of your academics. You may do more harm than good to both yourself and your friends.**_

I'm 11. I'll make it work.

_**Are you sure? Harry James Potter-Crawford... You're destined to be great. Not that I can tell the future, or whatever crackpot hoo-ha that Sybill can cook up, real or not real. But you are destined for great things. So, young Harry James Potter-**_

It's Potter-Crawford.

_**You've got a fair bit of pride too. That accounts for a lot of things, and cements our decision even more-**_

Get to the point. People are staring. I wiggle in my seat, uncomfortable from all the eyes on me.

_**Are you monologuing?**_

So what if I am? It's my head. That of which, I shake my head around to prove my point.

_**You're quite the peculiar boy, aren't you, Harry James Potter-Crawford... So my final decision is...**_

Get on with it already!

_**Alright, alright, you impatient prick! So much like your father... You're going to be in...**_

Out with it!

"_**GRYFFINDOR!**_" The Sorting Hat roars.

The Gryffindor table erupts yet again in a volcano of cheers. I take the hat off with a grin, placing it on the stool. I run to them, and when I jump into a seat, Hermione, Ron and Neville surround me, congratulating me, asking questions, and talking about what happened.

"Attention, students!"

Hey, it's Uncle Albus! He rings a glass with a knife, drawing our attention to him.

"It's a brand new year at Hogwarts, and we have many new faces joining us today. Sadly, Professor Bathsheda Babbling is not here with us today, as she's enjoying an early retirement on the coasts of muggle Bermuda. The new professor taking up her position, ladies and gentleman, please welcome, Miss Arianne, of which her last name I do not know, who's currently too absorbed with the man sitting across from her- _**Ahem!**_"

The woman blushing at my Dad finally notices what's going on, and stands up quickly, flushing. She gives a bow, people clapping in response, some people whistling at her appearance and actions, then sits back down, completely engrossed with Dad.

"We also have one other new older face here among our staff, but he isn't necessarily part of our staff... Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome, Reynald Hayes Crawford, our new... er... Our new... Our new resident, what's the word for it, ah yes. _**Freeloader**_. Our new resident _**freeloader**_! Reynald! Are you listening! Stop ogling the new professor, and introduce yourself!" He barked.

Dad and the woman, Arianne, blush furiously. The talk runs wildly now.

"Reynald Crawford?"

"The Alchemist of Eternity?"

"Why's he here?"

"Is Harry Potter related some way to him?"

Heads swing from us to the man standing up.

"My name is Reynald Hayes Crawford, I'm an alchemist, a Dark Arts Hunter, an occasional freeloader, and a licensed purveyor of top quality Harry Potter merchandise!"

"_**DAD!**_" I shout exasperatedly at him.

"Yes son? I'm too busy smuggling your baby photos to Hogwarts for extra galleons and flirting to a very nice woman to talk to you right now! Leave a message at the tone! _Beep!_" He shouts back in a singsong tone, resuming his conversation with Arianne.

"_**DAD!**_" I yell, ticked off. "_**YOU MONEY GRUBBING BASTARD!**_"

"No allowance for two weeks!"

"_**DAD!**_"

"Wanna make it two months?"

I grumble quietly in my seat. There's silence. Then there's even more heated conversation. So much gossip is going to happen in the next few days...

* * *

><p><strong>POV: Reynald Hayes Crawford.<strong>

"Your adoptive son is Harry Potter?" She gapes at me.

I nod.

"And your last name is Crawford? Do you know the person in this ring? Are we related?"

"Yes, my last name is Crawford. I can't tell you if I know her, it's too personal. And no, we are not related." I reply.

Albus walks up to me after giving a warning to the students about something on some third floor corridor. Food appears everywhere magically, and all the students dive in.

"Do you have the _**package**_?" He asks me.

"Yep, I do." I reply. "And I'm not going to freeload. I'll earn my living through selling homemade Harry Potter merchandise and by hunting and erasing whatever Dark stuff I can find."

"... But after that, you're going to freeload."

"Pretty much." I whistle.

"Do you have a "challenge" designed for the "package" yet?" He asks me.

"I've got something along the lines of transfigured pseudo-inferi, and giant metal dragons. I should have something up and ready to go when I put the "package" up in the place where it's supposed to be hidden." I reply.

"What are you two talking about?" Arianne asks.

"Nothing, nothing." Albus smiles, eyes twinkling to her as he walks back to his seat.

"How does he-"

"I've been trying to find out for the last 20 years. I want to learn oh, so badly."

"Anyway, what's all this talk about a package?" She asked.

"We're hiding my mentor's legacy here."

"Your mentor's legacy- Oh Merlin, you're hiding the Philosopher's Stone?" She weakly asked.

"_**SHHH!**_" Everyone around us hisses at us.

"Sorry, sorry." I apologize for her. "Now, aren't you going to eat?"

"Aren't you?"

"Not hungry." I point out.

"Same here." She replies.

_**Grumble.**_

"That wasn't my stomach." I grin at her. She blushes, holding it.

"I'm still not hungry." She lies.

"Get something into your stomach, it's not going to help your health one bit if you don't." I tell her sternly.

"Nuh-uh." She shakes her head.

"I'll force-feed you." I smirk mischievously.

She grumbles. "My arm's a little sore..."

I smile at her, and scoop up a small bit of mashed potatoes with her spoon, dip it in her gravy, and hold it to her mouth.

"Say ah."

She flushes. "_Ahhhhh..._" I slip it into her mouth, and she eats it. Soon, everything on her plate is gone, and she's a vibrant blushing mess.

"Was that good enough for you?" I ask her.

She smiles softly, nodding.

Everyone around us laughs, chuckles, or giggles.

"Ah, young romance." Albus muses to Minerva.

"When I was their age, I'd keep proper table manners in a public environment!" She commented.

"But are you trying to tell me you never wanted something like that from a handsome man before, Minerva?" Filius asks her.

"Well... Maybe once, at a young, young age..." She muses. For the first time in 18 years, Minerva McGonagall graced us with a short, slight blush. As quickly as it came, it quickly disappeared, and she dove with conformity into her food.

Everyone had heard that. Everyone had seen it.

"What in Merlin's name is going to happen to Hogwarts this year...?" Severus mutters, continuing to eat.

"Hell's gonna freeze over, that's what." I grin at him.

He ignores me. Though I noticed the slight twitch of the corner of his mouth that formed a small lopsided smile... Nah, he's probably twitching in anger.

"S-So, d-do you have a-anything in store for us w-when we go to the third c-corridor tonight?" Quirrell stammers at me.

"I should have it ready by tonight, and you can see it." I reply, resuming a conversation with Arianne.

The students had all but vacated the Great Hall.

"I'll go up ahead and see what I can cook up. I'll call for you guys when I'm done." I tell them. "This is going to take a fair bit of enchanting. I'll take about an hour or two, so enjoy yourselves in my absence."

I leave for that third floor corridor.

* * *

><p>"I'm back... You neglected to mention that you had your own traps set up..." I growl at them.<p>

They're sitting around the Hufflepuff table, talking with each other.

"Sorry." Filius smirks. "We got busy."

"Yeah, they all had a huge argument about which table they were going to sit around. The house heads fought with each other, and somehow Miss Sprout came up on top." Arianne said.

The house heads were looking a little ashamed. Well, except for Severus, who kept up his same indifferent expression.

I just laugh. And laugh. And laugh.

"Oh shut up." Severus growls.

"Yeah yeah. Come on. I got it set, and ready to go."

With a flick of his wand, Albus summoned a bunch of flying carpets that whisked us away to the third floor corridor.

"So, what do we have to expect from one such as yourself?" Minerva asks.

"I added an extra room before the potions obstacle, oh, and Severus, you've outdone yourself. Awesome job." I comment.

He allows himself a conceited smile.

"Now, let's get in here, shall we?"

* * *

><p>I pull the chess piece shrapnel impaled on my arm and heal it with a discreet wave of my wand.<p>

"Okay, I've nearly been eaten by a giant three headed dog, molested by an overgrown weed, nearly sodomized by rampant flying keys, nearly got my head speared through with a chess piece's staff, and nearly choked to death from a troll's flatulence. Twice today at that. Now, what I have in store is much worse. Much, much worse."

They all share looks of humor, mirth, and in one case, annoyance. I don't think Pomona liked it when I called her prized plant an overgrown weed.

"Through here."I point at the door.

I lead them into the room. It's a big room, reminiscent of a dungeon. Sets of pillars supported the stone ceiling. Standing in the absolute center, is a circle slab of stone, raised about a foot high.

"What are we supposed to do here?" Albus asks.

"I'll show you how the room works. Stand beside the circle, and set up the best protection magic you can around you. I won't need it, since I need to be the one activating the room."

He nods. The staff members group together, and with a collective wave of their wands, a circle of light draws itself around them.

"Alright! Let's do this!" I grin.

Magically, large golden letters appear in the air at the end of the room.

**Stand in the center of the circle, Challenger.**

"Impressive charm work!" Filius comments, as I follow the words orders.

**Young challenger, young challenger, you seek the glory, you seek the treasure. But alas, but alas, you will not have it, until you meet our gracious measure. We have for you a tricky test. Many than one can try it, but one that not many can best. We have but three riddles, only three, you see, but they aren't so simple to answer, oh yes, yessiree. One will test your strength, your survivability. The next will test your endurance, and your mobility. The last will test your courage, lest you reach senility. So we'll give you your first question, sorry if our tone makes you angry, but it's an important one you see. So little challenger, to this challenge, do you agree?**

"Agreed."

**Challenge accepted.**

"What is the point of having riddles? Are you sure they aren't too easy to solve?" Minerva asks.

"Just watch. There's a twist, like you read."

**First: From beyond the dead, yes, that's what you read, what's alive yet not alive, very difficult to survive, can thrive where we may only rive, and is a bastard attempt, to revive?**

"The a-answer's easy!" Quirrell points out.

"Yes, yes it is." Filius says.

"The answer is inferi, correct?" Albus asks me.

I nod. I turn to the letters floating in the air.

"Inferi!" I answer.

**Oh correct, oh correct, you maybe do know best, but alas, but alas... It's time to put you to the test.**

"Here comes the good part."

Along the walls of the room, many gates of some sort appear with the sound of grinding stone. The remaining rock sinks into the ground, leaving openings. The sounds of screams and scuttling surround us. And out of the first gate, crawling on all fours is...

An inferi. Ripped to shreds with body muscles and all the gore minus the blood, it crawls towards me growling.

"_**You made inferi?-!**_" Minerva shrieks.

Everyone looks in fear from me to the inferi on the ground.

"Nope. They're just transfigured and enchanted mannequins. Not real dead corpses. But with all my experience with them, I've created a very good replica of one." I explain.

Minerva slowly nods at me. "That's some fine transfiguration..." She comments, now looking a little green.

The sounds of scuttling and screaming grow louder.

"This is the hard part."

Out of all the gates, swarm dozens of more inferi.

"Oh my-"

"Stay in the barrier-"

"What are you trying to test?" Severus asks.

"Simple, you read it earlier. This is a test of survivability, while having a clear mind under pressure." I reply.

The inferi draw even closer by the second... Some begin to run at me. I reach into my shoulder bag, a clear thought in my mind of what I want. _**Shotgun.**_

And out comes a very familiar shotgun, from World War One and magically maintained and constantly modernized, is a pump action Model 1987. I jam the barrel into a running inferi's head, and pull the trigger.

**Bang.**

There's a flying mess, and the inferi's body falls to the ground.

"Could use some more shot..." I muse about the custom shells in my gun.

"How are you supposed to pass this test?" Pomona asks.

"Kill them all." I reply, pulling out a short sword and beheading an inferi with an elaborate flourish.

"Then why don't you use magic?" Severus asks.

"This way is cooler, and more fun."

"Typical Gryffindor..." He mutters.

"I wasn't a Gryffindor. I was a Slytherin!"

Everyone gapes, and Severus twitches.

"But you're the poster child for Gryffindor behaviour!" Filius exclaims.

"I take offense to that!" Minerva says, defending her house.

"The damn sorting hat put me there after he didn't know where to put me in the first place! He said I'd do Slytherin some good! And many years later, it spawned two new Dark Lords. Not much of an improvement, eh?" I say as I keep the mass of inferi from ripping me to shreds with a few swings of my sword.

"Just use your magic! There's too many!" Albus shouts.

"I was getting to that!" I put my weapons away, and with a flick of my right arm, my wand snaps from a holster into my hand.

Yew, 9 ½ inches, thestral hair.

"Diffindo Maxima!" With a large sweep of my wand, large swaths of energy cut through the masses of inferi. A second later, they all fell to the ground in gory pieces.

"Good enough to cut through bone." I grin.

"You modified a severing to do that?" Filius gapes.

"It helps to use it sometimes. Though on live targets, it looks a little gross."

They all pale, looking a little green.

**Challenge Completed.**

"Are you injured!" Arianne cried.

"I'm fine! I'm used to doing this kind of thing!" I reply, giving her a consoling smile.

Though I doubt it consoled her one bit. I look up to the words again.

**Second Riddle: The first one dealt with corpses, the next shall deal with flames, what is the thing that feeds on horses, what is the thing that cannot be reined, what can you fly from, but cannot outdo, with not much weaknesses that stop it from feasting on you?**

Everyone gulps, knowing exactly what it was.

"Dragons!"

**Oh correct, oh correct, you maybe do know best, but alas, but alas... It's time to put you to the test.**

The opened gates shut and became walls again. One large gate appeared in the ceiling above the door to the next chamber. A clock appeared where the words were, the hands counting down.

**You have but three minutes, three minutes to survive, to prevent what cannot be beaten, from roasting your sorry hide.**

Slithering out the gate, flying in midair through magic, was a long, wingless, and fearsome metal dragon.

**Run, run, as fast as you can.**

It sent a blast of fire at me. I dodge it by rolling to the left. I break into a run from the giant thing. It gives chase, blatantly ignoring everyone in the protective circle.

I shoot off a few curses at it to prove its invulnerability, and continue running. It weaves through the pillars expertly, keeping up with me.

"Come on, you oversized paperweight! I didn't design you to loaf around and look pretty!"

The thing seemed to take offense to that, and it shoots another swath of fire at me.

"To slow!"

It roars, angry. It charges at me, intent on chewing me to bits.

"Confringo!" I sent flying a blasting curse, which hits it in the mouth. It swerves from it's original flight path, and crashes heavily into the wall.

**Time up. Challenger, if you're still alive, please stand on the circle, you're still in for quite the ride.**

I step on the circle yet again.

"Reynald, your hair's a bit..."

"Singed?"

"Yes, that's the word for it."

**Final Riddle.**

"**SHIT."** I remember what I put in here now.

**What can show your greatest fears, drive the strong into tears, tear a mind into bits, without a care, only bliss?**

"That's easy!"

"Very easy!'

"It's a _**boggart!**_" Filius shouts at the letters.

"No, no, please don't!" I plead.

**Oh correct, oh correct, you maybe do know best, but alas, but alas... It's time to put you to the test.**

"**BLOODY HELL.**" I pale considerably.

I freeze where I stand. No... God no... An opening appears in the floor.

I jump at the protective circle.

"_**LET ME IN! LET ME IN, DAMN IT!**_" I beg, pounding on the barrier with my fists.

"What, are you, the great Reynald Crawford, afraid of a simple boggart?" Severus said, snidely.

I lean against the magical wall, staring at the opening in the floor. A small sphere of something, many images of different fears flash through it. It drifts towards me.

"_**OH MY GOD.**_" I sob.

The boggart takes the shape of a woman in a dress, sobbing over the body of a little boy. Heads fly from the woman inside the circle, to the woman sobbing over the child.

"_**Renaud**_..." The woman sobbed. "_**No...**_"

The woman looks up from the boy.

"_**Reynald... How could you...**_"

"_**I'm sorry!**_" I sob.

She stands up, blood now staining her dress. She walks up to me._** Oh god... Stay away...**_

"_**You let me die Reynald. You let our son die. I thought you loved our son. I thought you loved me.**_" She cried.

"_Arianne..._" I reach my hand out to touch her. Her hands clench around my throat.

"_**I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME!**_" She shrieked.

I feel the barrier collapse. I slowly fall to the ground, as if time began to slow. I stare into the bloodshot hazel eyes of my dead wife. My own slowly close, tears cascading down my face...

Then it all goes black.

* * *

><p><strong>POV: Harry James Potter-Crawford.<strong>

I sat in the Transfiguration classroom with Hermione, Ron and Neville.

"Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, Aunt Min- I mean, Professor McGonagall?"

"Your father's in the infirmary for the next few days, he encountered a rather strong boggart that Riddikulus wouldn't work on." She said.

"What did he see?" I asked her.

"Something rather traumatic." She adopted a worried expression. "He's bedridden, and Professor Arianne is watching over him... They have a lot of explaining to do."

"Okay then." I reply. "What do we have to do today?"

She goes to the front of the classroom, and gives us our objective for this class. Simple stuff, like turning a match into a needle. What I wanna learn is how to turn into an animal, like an Animagus. I pick up my match looking at it.

A quick wave of my wand, and I have a needle.

"Excellent work Mr. Potter! On the first try as well! 10 points to Gryffindor." She says.

Soon, Hermione has somewhat of a needle, it's silver, but still wooden.

"How'd you do that?" She asked me.

"Practice, a lot of practice."

I hold up my needle, looking at it.

"Watch this!" I say rather loudly, catching people's attention. With an elaborate flourish of my wand, I transfigure the needle into a beautiful sword.

"Mr. Potter!" Aunt Minnie exclaims. "What do you intend to do with that?-!"

"Show off?" I say weakly,

She pulls the sword from my grip, inspects it for a second, and then banishes it.

"10 points from Gryffindor for creating such a dangerous thing!"

The Gryffindors in the room groan.

"20 points _**to**_ Gryffindor for such impeccable transfiguration..." She says after.

Now they cheer.

"That was amazing!" Neville said. "Where'd you learn to do something like that?"

"Places." I smile brightly. Being the best in something feels awesome when you know you can also back it up with the skills to prove it.

I've got quite the year in store for me, don't I? Like the universal saying that exists in both worlds...

So much to do, so little time.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2 Complete! Not much to say here.<strong>

THOUGH I HAVE ONE REQUEST OF YOU GUYS! WHAT DO YOU GUYS WANT FOR HARRY'S ANIMAGUS FORM! POST YOUR REQUEST IN A REVIEW!

**So like last time, please review, but I won't beg it from you. I don't want attention, I want criticism. If there's praise alongside that or on its own, then that's very welcome, and thanks! ****So R/R, enjoy life, read great fiction, and let the creative juices flow. And not only for you lemon writers. Aw well. – EthernalRain**


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